Not Like Himself
by editorbit
Summary: Harry, as always, gets up to get some hot chocolate, though his feet take him somewhere completely else.


It was night. Harry didn't really know specifically what time it was, as he couldn't really see anything in the dark room. He could just hear faint snoring and heavy breathing from the other beds.

He was wide awake, had been for a while now. How long he'd laid there for, eyes open and staring into nothing, he didn't know. Anything from ten minutes to two hours could have passed. Normally he'd either been sleeping, at least recently as his former sleep problems were gone - who knows how - and replaced with the feeling of sleepiness as they went to bed. Other than that he'd been down in the kitchens, getting some hot chocolate, or just getting some air. This night would have been one of those involving the hot chocolate, or the air, but here he was, laying in bed.

Normally he'd, though he didn't really like to admit it, go find Draco. Draco was surprisingly non-threatening at night, to a certain extent at least. He was almost pleasant, or tolerable, to be around. He never even seemed to think about reaching for his wand, or get up in his face, instead just rolling his eyes or let out an annoyed sigh. Was it the lack of the members of his little entourage? Tiredness? Harry still hadn't figured that one out.

He and Draco had been cool, kind of, for a while. At least at night. Now though, he'd seemed to have pissed him off, bringing himself back to square one. And here he was, thinking he'd made progress. Draco was more snappy and annoyed whenever he came across him than usual, although not to the same level as during the day.

He laid there for a while before he decided to finally get out of bed. Just laying there wasn't doing anything, so might as well go out and do something. Hopefully he'd be tired when he came back.

He'd quite mastered the art of sneaking out of the common room actually. He knew where to step, where the floor creaked and where it didn't. He knew the rooms like the back of his hand and didn't even need to get his wand out to get some light. In the matter of seconds, which must have been a record, he was out in the hall.

Now, where to? Hot chocolate seemed tempting, though his feet took him in a completely different direction. Up the stairs he went. He knew exactly where his feet were taking him - to who they were taking him to.

Harry noticed him before he noticed him, Draco Malfoy that is. He had his back to him and he was standing by the railing, arms resting on the railing. He didn't seem to be paying attention. Not a movement was made, even as Harry stumbled on the last step, foot loudly hitting the floor as he got his balance back. Either Draco must have been deep in thought, or Harry was just seeing things because no one couldn't have heard that.

He took a few, slow steps towards him, slipping the invisibility cloak off his head and folding it over his arm. As he got closer it appeared Draco was looking at something, though he couldn't see what it was.

"I thought I'd told you not to come here." He didn't turn around. Harry took the lack of movement as an invitation to step even closer, leaning against the railing beside the blond. He didn't have anything in his hands. Weird, he thought to himself, he must have been imagining things. It had seemed like Draco had been looking at something. He glanced down, but saw nothing.

"But here I am."

Draco glanced at him. "Unfortunately."

The two stayed silent for a while. No one said anything. Draco kept his gaze fixated on the view, or what could be seen of it at least, in front of them. He adjusted the sleeves of his black coat. He was well dressed to be out for some air in the middle of a school night. He looked like he was going to a dinner party or something. Meanwhile Harry was just wearing some pyjamas, and some shoes.

Draco crossed his arms, his right hand gripping his left forearm. Judging by the look on his face he was deep in thought. "Are you okay?"

Draco glanced at him. "I'm fine." He looked away again, clearly not interested in having any small talk. Harry stayed silent for just a moment. "Are you always this pale?" He did look paler than usual, thought that could just have been the lighting, or lack thereof. "Are you always this annoying?" Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm pretty sure you know the answer to that." Draco didn't respond.

Silence fell over them again. Draco kept his eyes off Harry, unlike Harry, clearly trying his best to ignore him. "Are you sure you're okay? I mean, you look a little lost in your own world." Draco's grip on his forearm seemed to tighten, his skin whitening where it was pressing against the black material of his coat. What was up with him?

Harry reached a hand over, placing it on top of Draco's hand. He'd barely touched his skin and was just about to ask if he was okay when the hand wrapped around his wrist, shoving his hand away. Keeping Harry's hand an arm length away he kept his hand tightly wrapped around his wrist. "Don't touch me," he snapped, clearly annoyed. Odd. It wasn't exactly like the two never had laid a hand on each other. They'd stood under the invisibility cloak together a few times and that wasn't exactly the biggest piece of fabric in the world. What was up with him? Must have hit a nerve or something.

"Are you alright? Did you hurt your arm something?" Draco finally let go of his hand. Harry rubbed his wrist. Draco sure had a tight grip. If he didn't know better, he'd think he was breaking his wrist.

"Don't touch me, Potter."

Draco turned his back to him, one elbow resting on the railing. What was up with him? It was almost like his arm hurt or something? Had he hurt himself during Quidditch? Had a spell gone wrong? Harry started at the back of the blond's head. How odd he was acting. This was odd even for Draco, even for Draco during the day when he had his little entourage.

The blond's head tilted forward, clearly looking down at something. Something had to be up with that arm of his.

A thought popped up in Harry's mind. He shook his head. No. It couldn't be. Right? No. Not Draco. Yes, he was the Draco Malfoy, but that seemed too extreme even for Draco.

Draco played a lot of Quidditch. He was bound to fall and hurt himself eventually, again that is.

He was brought back out of his thoughts, realising he'd been staring intensely at the back of Draco's head the entire time. He'd noticed something, though he wasn't sure what. He hadn't really been paying attention.

Draco brought a hand up to his face. Now it could have been the lack of sleep, and proper lighting, but he could have sworn he noticed redness in Draco's face as the blond turned his head just a tiny bit, specifically around his eyes. But it couldn't have been. Right? Draco Malfoy was not crying. Draco Malfoy didn't cry. Was he even capable of crying?

"Malfoy."

The blond glanced over his shoulder. He raised a hand up to his face once more before turning around, looking at him with an empty look. "What?" His normal snappy, annoyed tone was a lot weaker. He didn't seem to have been crying, though the skin around his eyes was red. He didn't look like himself really, not at all. His hair wasn't as slicked back and styled as before, instead a lot messier and his posture was slightly off, his back not as straight. He did not look like himself.

"Whatever you do, don't punch me for doing this." Draco didn't have time to reply as Harry just grabbed him by his shoulder, pulling him into his arms.


End file.
